


when the party's over

by finding



Series: i don't want your body (but i hate to think about you with somebody else) [5]
Category: High School Musical: The Musical: The Series (TV)
Genre: M/M, angsty, i made nini a lesbian and i don't want to hear any criticism, multiple POVs, the whole gang's here! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finding/pseuds/finding
Summary: Gina shows up to the party at 10:46. At 10:58, she sees something she’s not supposed to see.or: Ricky and EJ go to a party. A night told from 4 points of view by those who know them best.(read other works in the series first or this won't make sense!)
Relationships: Ricky Bowen/E.J. Caswell
Series: i don't want your body (but i hate to think about you with somebody else) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760380
Comments: 13
Kudos: 71





	when the party's over

**Author's Note:**

> decided i was kind of bored and wanted to switch up the narrative style of this one! also,,,uh i love nini so i might have written her a little ooc but i think she’s a lot smarter and takes less bullshit than the show gives her credit for. i couldn’t remember where the conservatory scout was from and didn’t feel like rewatching all of episode 10 so i just made something up. 
> 
> i keep forgetting to say that these fics are not stand-alone oneshots. they won't make any sense unless you read the four previous fics, so give those a shot before you start this one! i promise things will get better in the next chapter-- this is the valley before the peak!
> 
> title from when the party’s over by billie eilish

**1\. nini (9:48 pm)**

Nini needs to talk to Ricky. She thinks that Ricky probably needs to talk to her too, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it.

He doesn’t look good, hasn’t looked good for the past few weeks whenever she runs into him at parties or around the school (she’s taking three summer classes to fast-track graduation and sometimes she runs into Ricky hanging out in the west parking lot with skater kids she’s never seen before).

It’s been over a month since they broke up. Again. Nini broke up with him the first time because he couldn’t say I love you. She did it the second time because she knew she’d never be able to say it either. It’s not Ricky, really (even though he has an obvious amount of baggage to work out before he can be a good boyfriend). Mostly it’s that she doesn’t need a boyfriend right now. Or ever. Maybe a girlfriend. She puts it halfway down on her mental to-do list right between “Apply for the NYC Ballet just to see if I can get in” and “Visit Thailand.” It’s a long list, okay?

Nini sits on the front porch and lets her legs dangle off the concrete. It’s a nice night out—the sun just finished setting, a soft breeze—the kind of night you fall in love in. Nini doesn’t have time to fall in love though, so she tries to take the details in so she can translate them into lyrics. Boyfriends don’t get you into a school for the arts, but sad songs about fireflies and heartbreak do.

Kourtney asks her if she wants a drink from inside, but Nini just shakes her head. Her friend raises her eyes and cheerily says “Suit yourself!” before disappearing into the house, her arm looped through Seb’s.

Ricky shows up right as Nini’s watching a freshman she knows from choir start puking in the rose bush. She tears her eyes away and lifts up a hand to wave Ricky over, but he walks right past her and up the steps. She’d be angrier at him if he didn’t look like complete _shit._ His hair is flattened down and there are bags under his eyes, but his gaze has this wild, frantic look. He stops in front of the door and takes a few breaths, almost like he’s steeling himself. Nini takes this as her chance.

“Ricky?” she calls out, but he doesn’t look at her. “Earth to Ricky? It’s Nini?”

Ricky must finally notice her because he spins around so fast that Nini’s pretty sure he’s gonna have whiplash. He looks _wrecked._ “Nini?”

“Hi,” she says slowly, like she’s talking to a child. Or a feral animal, maybe. “How are you?”

“How am I?” Ricky asks quietly, startled. Nini doesn’t think he’s blinked once.

She laughs, bright and high. “Yeah, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“Yeah,” Ricky says, but he doesn’t make a move to say anything more.

“You wanna sit down?” She’d offer to get him a drink, but it really doesn’t look like he needs one.

Ricky tries to discreetly check the time on his phone, but it’s clenched so tightly in his fist that it’s kind of hard not to notice. “I don’t really have a lot of time,” he offers apologetically.

She cocks her head, looks up at him with the big brown eyes she _knows_ can get him to do pretty much anything she wants. It’s not an abuse of power, okay? Nini just prefers efficiency. “C’mon, just for a few minutes. Old time’s sake.”

Ricky blinks, finally, and looks down at his phone one more time before he mutters, “Yeah, okay.”

Ricky sits down next to her, at least a foot away, and she wonders when the distance between them became physical, too. She wonders when she stopped missing him. Nini wonders a lot of things, all the fucking time, and it’s kind of exhausting but she thinks if she stopped wondering, stopped moving, everything might come crashing down around her.

Ricky checks the time again. It’s 9:54 pm on a warm Friday night, and she’s sitting on the porch of a farmhouse with her ex-boyfriend. Nini doesn’t really want to spend the night like this, but she has to do it sooner or later.

“I got into the conservatory. The one in Denver. I move into the dorms in August,” she says, looking at Ricky’s profile. He stares straight ahead.

“Oh,” he says. There’s a pause. “Are you excited?”

The question kind of takes Nini by surprise. She expected him to be mad or try to talk her out of it or at least to say _Good riddance_ and take off. Ricky’s exceptionally good at avoiding his problems. “Yeah, I’m—yeah Ricky, I’m really excited. They’ve got a really competitive dance program that basically _guarantees_ you an audition with Julliard, and there’s this stupid makeup SFX class I might take just for fun, but—”

She stops, then, because she notices she’s rambling. But, more importantly, Ricky’s head is cocked, staring at her as she speaks, and he looks _fond_. She hasn’t seen him look like that in a long time.

(Sometimes, only a few times, she’s caught him staring at EJ like that, but she thinks she might be mistaken. Then again, stranger things have happened.)

“You’re a rocket, Nini.” He used to call her that, used to laugh it into her neck, used to mumble it while they kissed. _My pocket-rocket._ It doesn’t mean the same thing now, and maybe that’s okay.

She laughs, once, and then shakes her head. There aren’t a lot of cars out her, just a long stretch of gravel road with a few beat-up sedans and trucks that the more _demonstrative_ boys drive. A white Jeep makes it way up the drive with its brights on. Asshole.

“I haven’t heard that in a long time,” Nini says.

“We haven’t talked in a long time,” Ricky offers.

“Yeah,” she replies. “Do you want to change that?”

He stares at the road, watches the Jeep approach. “Maybe soon.”

“Okay,” Nini says and bites back whatever hard thing has formed in her throat. Ricky takes more time with these things than Nini. “But we’ll finish Outer Worlds before I leave, right?”

Ricky cracks a smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, but it’s a start. “Yeah. We’re the unplanned variable, right?”

“Yeah. We are,” she says, and something starts to grow in her chest. It’s small and green and lives between her ribs, and she thinks that this is a different kind of love. Young and quiet and patient. “Hug?”

Ricky glances at the Jeep. It’s parked now. He tears his gaze away and looks at her, jaw clenched. “Yeah. I need a fucking hug.”

Nini loops her arms under his, wraps them around his chest. He’s solid and warm under her, feels how he felt when they first started dating. She leans her cheek against his shoulder, feels him breath under her. Ricky strokes a hand across her back, _one two_ , slow motions, like her mom does when she’s sick.

A car door slams, and she hears the crunch of gravel as someone approaches the house. The sound stops, for a second, and so does the motion of Ricky’s hand. There’s a pause, heavy and tangible, and then Ricky’s arms tighten around her. The footsteps continue, the door opens and closes, and Ricky lets go.

They sit on the porch for a few more minutes, neither of them speaking. The night is full of endings and beginnings and hard and beautiful things that she could write songs about. But maybe she won’t. Maybe she’ll keep this one just for herself, locked up in her heart.

“I have to go,” Ricky says.

“I know,” Nini says.

She stays out there for a little longer once he leaves, just until the last of the light is out and the first stars appear. Nini’s known for a long time that Ricky isn’t the most important thing to her, but this is the first time that she’s realized that she’s not the most important thing to him either. It might take a while for it to stop hurting. Maybe it’ll take dance classes and thousands of miles and Ricky glancing at his phone because there’s someone else.

 _Maybe,_ she thinks, _this is how we grow up._

**2\. big red (10:14 pm)**

“I’m just _saying_ that if the Democrats don’t get their shit together, then he’s gonna get another term!” Ashlyn shouts, and Big Red wonders when the conversation 1. turned to politics and 2. escalated to shouting.

“With that attitude, of course he’ll get re-elected!” Carlos shouts. “Why do you even _care_ anyway? We’re 16! We can’t vote!”

Ashlyn groans, and the sound is half cave-woman half drill-sergeant. Red can’t say that he doesn’t like it. “It’s people like you with your blind optimism that got us here! Remember the 2016 polls, Carlos?” she asks mockingly.

Big Red decides now is maybe the time to intervene because he really doesn’t want to see a fight between Ashlyn and Carlos. It’s for Carlos’ own good, really. She can take grown men down with a glare.

“Hey, Ashlyn, babe, maybe we should—”

“Do _not_ call me babe right now!” Ashlyn growls, and Carlos throws him a terrified look. Big Red shrugs apologetically and extracts himself from the situation, figuring he’s done his best. Okay, he did one thing. He’s gonna count that as his best.

Big Red likes to talk about politics sometimes. Other times, he just likes to play beer pong and maybe swim in the cow pond behind Seb’s house when he’s had a few too many. He thinks he might pick the latter.

Ricky comes into the kitchen right around the time that Big Red has cracked open his fourth Keystone Light and Ashlyn has Carlos backed into the pantry while she mutters words like “gerrymandering” and “green-washing corporate-dick-sucking politicians.” She’s kind of scary. He thinks he’s in love with her.

“Ricky!” Big Red shouts, waving his friend over.

“Hey Red,” Ricky says. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and loose-fitting jeans. They’re not cuffed at the bottom, and Big Red mentally lets out a sigh of relief that his friend hasn’t gone full Timothée Chalamet skater boy yet. On second thought, Ricky probably doesn’t even know who Timothée Chalamet is, so they’re probably safe.

“You want a beer? They’re disgusting but chuggable,” Big Red says. His eyes scan over Ricky’s face. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Have you seen EJ?” Ricky asks, eyes darting around the kitchen. Big Red hopes Ricky’s just nervous and not on Adderall or something. If some kid at the park gave Ricky Adderall then Big Red will be needing to have _words_ with multiple people. Maybe he’ll bring Ashlyn as back up.

“Nope,” Big Red says and takes a drag of his beer. “You can ask Ashlyn, she might know. But she’s also about to break the sound barrier so maybe you’d better not. Why’re you looking for him?”

“No reason,” Ricky says. He doesn’t meet Big Red’s gaze.

 _No reason_. Sure. Yeah. Maybe Big Red was able to pretend that was the truth when Ricky first started showing up with mysterious hickeys after disappearing for an hour at parties. It was sometime between the third time he saw Ricky’s board leaning against EJ’s Jeep in the pool parking lot and the second time he saw them making out in a bush outside Susan Jones’ house that he stopped believing him.

Big Red really doesn’t care that much, to be completely honest. Ricky can have sloppy make-out sessions with anyone. Big Red just wants them to be nice to Ricky. He’s not sure that EJ is.

“You okay, dude?” he asks nonchalantly. “You look like you’re tweaking.”

Ricky chews on his bottom lip absentmindedly. “I had a lot of coffee today.”

“You don’t like coffee.”

Ricky gives him a shaky smile. “I need a new addiction. I get too nervous having weed in the house with my mom moving all her stuff out.”

“Get a car like the rest of us adults, and then you never have to worry,” Big Red jokes.

Ricky glares at him. “They said that they’ve never had anyone fail the driver’s test so many times in one month. They basically asked me not to come back.”

“I told you that I’d give you driving lessons anytime. Free of charge.”

“Let me know when you decide to get air-conditioning and electric windows. Then we’ll talk,” Ricky replies.

Big Red tuts. “Beggars can’t be choosers, Ricky.” He wants to ask if Ricky won’t need rides anymore because EJ’s gonna drive him around. He doesn’t.

“I need to find EJ,” Ricky says resolutely, but he makes no motion to move.

“K,” Red says, taking another sip.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“Be my guest,” Red replies, waving his open hand with a _get going_ motion.

“Okay, I’m gonna do it,” Ricky says, bouncing on his heels a few times. Big Red sighs.

“Will you like, at least find me before you leave? Or call me when you do? Cause I really don’t trust you out of my sight, especially not around him.”

Ricky stares at him incredulously, his mouth open slightly. “Do you—wait, don’t answer that.” He pauses for a moment and then starts for the door. “I’ll text you.”

“Call me!” Big Red shouts as Ricky retreats from the kitchen and disappears into the mass of sweaty bodies currently making a mess of Seb’s idyllic country sunroom.

At this point, Ashlyn’s started reading a list of numbers so big he can’t comprehend them and Carlos is basically a whimpering mess. Red stares at a porcelain chicken sitting on top of the fridge. “Guess it’s just you and me, dude. Cheers.”

**3\. gina (10:46 pm)**

Gina doesn’t party. She likes mimosas at Sunday brunch and the occasional wine-and-crafting sesh. What she _doesn’t_ like is a bunch of hormonal teens parading around with their inflated egos and sad dancing because they have alcohol. Gina doesn’t need booze to dance. She’s good enough without it.

Gina doesn’t party, so she’s not really sure why Seb told her that there would be _just a small get together with the drama kids, Gina, for real!_ at his house on Friday night when obviously that’s not true. She steps over the foot of a girl who’s partially passed out under the rose bush and gingerly makes her way up the stairs. She _swears_ if someone knocks into her and makes her drop these cupcakes, she’s gonna lose it. 

Gina pushes her way into the kitchen, but none of her friends are there. Which is weird, by the way, because where else do they hang out at parties? She takes a tray of Jello shots off the top shelf of the fridge and puts them on the counter (she doesn’t really worry about them not getting eaten). Gina puts the cupcakes in the empty spot with a note that says _DO NOT EAT_ in black Sharpie. It probably doesn’t matter.

The living room is a bust, and so is the dining room where the table has been transformed into a pseudo-pong board. A red solo cup gets dangerously close to the Brandy tank top she spent _hours_ scouring the thrift store for, and the glare she throws at the kid is so menacing, he just withers and mumbles a quick _Sorry_.

Eventually, she goes out back, escaping the pressing heat of too many bodies. Where did Seb even find all these people? There’re some kids smoking on the steps, but she _subtly_ knees one in the back to get them to move. She approaches one group of people after she thinks she hears Nini’s voice, but when she taps on her shoulder, it’s just some random Junior.

“Sorry,” Gina says and turns around. This is stupid. Gina doesn’t want to be here, but she also doesn’t want to walk back through the nightmare house and try to find her friends just yet. She resolves to sit down on a chipping red swinging bench nestled on the side of a white barn a little way from the house.

There’s a breeze and the fireflies are starting to come out. It’s quieter over here, just the hum of the bass and conversations that waft over from the patio. Well, it _was_ quiet until a couple of people start arguing somewhere close to the barn. Gina lets out a sigh and closes her eyes. This is not the way she planned her night going.

“What do you _think_ is going on between us, EJ?” a voice says. Gina thinks they might be inside the barn. She shifts towards the left side of the bench to get closer to the door. She’s not snooping, okay? EJ basically streams his whole life on Instagram, this conversation can’t be that different.

The person that Gina assumes is EJ lets out a laugh, but it’s short. “Are you kidding me? Are you actually fucking with me right now?”

“Does it _look_ like I’m fucking with you? You think I want to do this any more than you do?”

“I really don’t know what you want, Ricky, because you don’t fucking talk to me!” EJ shouts. EJ shouts Ricky’s name, and Gina thinks, _Oh, I shouldn’t be listening to this._

She stands up from the swing and starts walking away when she catches a glimpse of the two of them through a crack in the door. EJ has his back to the door and is pacing back and forth, the strong line of his back taking up a good part of her view. She can barely see Ricky, but she thinks he’s sitting on a bale of hay, running his hands through his hair. Both of them are shrouded in shadows, the only light coming from a dull yellow lantern behind Ricky.

“Oh, so we’re talking now? Like we’re friends or something? Cause I thought you didn’t _do_ friends, EJ. We’re just hooking up, right, it doesn’t mean anything,” Ricky grits.

It takes Gina a second to process that. EJ and Ricky. Hooking up. Like, kissing and touching and—other things that Gina really doesn’t want to think about. She’s been around the track with both of them. It’s not much to tell, honestly.

“You’re the one who said you weren’t gay! I’ve always been honest with you about what I want,” EJ says, crossing his arms.

“I told you that because I wasn’t! Because I’m not, okay. I don’t fucking know what I am. I like girls, I swear. I just like you, too.” The last part comes out quietly.

EJ doesn’t say anything, but he stops pacing. After a second, he asks, “Was it this good with Nini?”

Ricky’s head whips up, looks straight at EJ. Gina shifts to lean against the side of the barn. “What?”

“You heard me. Was it this good with Nini? Did you make her like you, tell her she was special, then break up with her? Twice, if I’m right.”

“That’s not fair—” Ricky starts.

EJ steps forward, threatening. “No. It is fair. What were you doing with her tonight, huh? You have her wrapped around your fucking finger, hugging your ex-girlfriend—who is also my ex-girlfriend, can I add—right in front of me after you called me drunk last night saying that you were wearing my jacket and thinking of me and—”

“I wasn’t _drunk_ , EJ, Jesus Christ how many times do I have to tell you that!”

“What do you _want_ from me, Ricky?” EJ shouts, cutting Ricky off. “What do you want from me? To be your boyfriend, take you out to the movies, put my hand in your back pocket? Cause we both know that neither of us was made for commitment.”

“I want to get you out of my fucking system,” Ricky says, but there’s no bite to it. He sounds tired and maybe a little terrified.

There’s a pause. “Right,” EJ says. “Sure. What, you wanna get off one more time and then call it quits?”

“No, just—” Ricky says, frustrated. “I can’t keep doing this. It’s not good for either of us.”

EJ shakes his head and laughs. “Like you fucking know what’s good for me, Bowen.”

Ricky stands up, takes a step towards EJ. “I know you better than you think. Better than you probably want me to because you won’t let anyone close enough to figure out that you’re a fucking fraud. The followers, the girls, the bravado? All hiding a scared fucking kid who doesn’t know who he is because daddy doesn’t love him, right? You’re a fucking cliché, Caswell.”

EJ’s silent, then lets out a choked laugh. “Low fucking blow, Bowen. I think we’re done here.” EJ turns on his heel and starts walking towards the door. Gina ducks around the corner and hopes he can’t see her, but the door doesn’t open.

“You know you’re gonna come running back, right?” EJ asks. “You’re gonna get drunk and lonely and bored, and then you’re gonna come looking for me. Next time, I won’t be there. Find someone else to experiment on.” With that, he pushes through the door and stalks towards the house. Gina sinks down to rest on the balls of her heels, wraps her arms around her knees.

“EJ!” Ricky calls out, but he’s already gone. “Fuck,” he mutters, and Gina imagines him, head in his hands.

Ricky doesn’t leave the barn for a while. Gina wouldn’t know, though, cause a few minutes later she stands up, evens out her breathing, dusts off her knees, and finds the first bathroom she can in Seb’s house.

She washes her hands slowly, methodically, then stares at herself in the mirror, braces her hands on the edge of the sink. “I was _not_ supposed to see that,” she says to her reflection. She’s not sure what to do with this secret, so she takes a few breaths, files it away with the other things she shouldn’t know, and smiles.

“I didn’t see anything,” she says, teeth shining, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. 

**4\. ashlyn (11:08 pm)**

“You’re gonna have to find someone else to give you a ride home tonight,” EJ says, sliding into an empty spot on the couch next to Ashlyn.

She raises her eyes and turns her body to face him. “Uh, okay. Any reason why?”

“I’ve got a date,” he says, his teeth pulling into a grin, a row of perfectly straight white teeth. Like a shark about to bite.

Her eyebrows inch further up if that’s possible. “You haven’t brought anyone back to your house in like, a month.”

“I’ve been busy.” EJ shrugs and stretches his arm out to rest it on the back of the couch. Ashlyn wonders if EJ knows he has this habit of spreading himself out, making himself the biggest in the room.

“Right,” Ashlyn says slowly. She’s not really sure what EJ could possibly be busy with. He doesn’t study or have friends or any hobbies really. He mostly works out and parties and looks at himself in the mirror. It’s hard being his cousin, sometimes. “Who’s the lucky victim?”

EJ surveys the room, eyes sweeping over the crowd. His eyes stop, for just a second, on a brunette. He’s tall, kind of lanky, moves well, Ashlyn thinks. Totally _not_ EJ’s type. EJ’s eyes only rest on him for a moment though, before zeroing in on a blonde with a bright smile and legs for days. _That’s more like it._

“That one,” he says, pointing at the girl.

Ashlyn scoffs. “Do you refer to women as objects just to spite me or are you actually misogynistic?”

EJ cocks his head, opens his eyes wide. “Cousin, you _must_ know by now that I don’t discriminate. I objectify all people equally,” he says coyly.

She cocks her head back and smiles, tight-lipped. “You’re disgusting, EJ.”

“I’m predictable,” he shoots back.

“What do you think her name is?” Ashlyn asks, looking back at the girl who now has her hand threaded in her hair, tipping her head back to expose her neck. “I’m thinking Stacie. With an _ie._ Or maybe Hannah. She looks like she goes to church.”

“Hmm,” EJ hums. “My bets are on Heather. Winner buys Waffle House tomorrow morning?”

“Nothing like hungover diner coffee with my favorite cousin,” Ashlyn says sourly before standing up. “Use a condom!” she shouts behind her as she leaves. EJ would be a shit dad. He’s a pretty shit everything, to be honest.

The thing is, EJ is _nice._ He’s really fucking nice when you can get him to care about something. He cares about swimming and getting out of New Mexico and Ashlyn thinks he’d probably beat up the whole water polo team if they ever said anything bad about her. EJ is protective of the things he cares about. And jealous too. He’s never been good at sharing.

Ashlyn finds Big Red talking to Nini in the entrance. They both look concerned, talking in quiet tones with their heads bowed.

“Something wrong?” she asks, sidling up next to Red and leaning her head on his shoulder.

He loops an arm around her shoulder and smiles down at her. “No, we’re just catching up about Ricky. Nini and him kind of reconciled.”

“That’s good,” she says. She doesn’t know a lot about the Ricky and Nini drama, honestly. Her and Nini didn’t really get close until the show was almost over, and still, there’s certain things they don’t talk about. “Can you give me a ride home? EJ’s being an asshole and gave my seat to whatever poor soul he convinced to have sex with him.”

Red’s eyebrows crinkle, and he quickly glances at Nini. She looks concerned. “Do you know who he’s leaving with?”

Ashlyn raises an eyebrow. “No. Is it important?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. Ricky just mentioned something earlier about getting a ride back with him.”

“Oh,” Ashlyn says, surprised. She didn’t know Ricky and EJ were that close. “No, it’s some leggy blonde from third period. I haven’t seen Ricky all night.”

Nini’s jaw clenches, and she touches Red briefly on the elbow. “I’ll find him, don’t worry. You guys have fun, okay?”

Before Big Red can protest, Nini’s already halfway across the room. Red sighs and tightens his arm around Ashlyn. It seems like something’s wrong. She doesn’t like not knowing what that is.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” she asks, as he steers her towards the kitchen for a refill.

“I’m not sure you want to know,” he replies, cracking open another beer. “Also, you’re driving home because I forgot I was DD.”

“Such a considerate boyfriend,” Ashlyn says, grinning. “So, what’s wrong with Ricky?”

Red leans back on the counter and crosses his arms. “Oh you know, parents are getting a divorce, his ex-girlfriend’s moving halfway across the country, he’s hooking up with your cousin, the list goes on and on…”

Ashlyn laughs, and then chokes on her water. “My cousin? As in, EJ, my cousin?”

Red nods grimly. “I think it’s been happening for a few weeks now. Maybe a month. If my detective skills are right, they started the night Nini broke up with him.”

“Okay,” Ashlyn says, trying to fit this information into the neatly ordered facts of her life. “Okay. We can spend the night here. I’m gonna need a stronger drink.”

**\+ bonus: ej (12:34 am)**

By the time EJ gets back to his house, it’s past midnight.

The girl’s name is Camilla, by the way, and she’s a lot nicer than EJ bargained for. She’s funny and smart and cares about things like hiking and reading short stories, and EJ’s kind of over it. Talking means thinking, and thinking means he can’t just fuck someone to shut his brain off.

Still, though, he shows her into his house, asks her if she wants anything to drink, knows that she’ll decline. He pours himself a gin and tonic, spreads out on the leather couch, watches as she walks around the room and looks at all the beautiful things the interior decorator picked out to make their house looked lived in.

“Have you read any of these books?” she asks, running her fingers over the spines.

“Nope,” he says, taking a sip. He’s never even opened one of them. They’re probably in fucking Dutch or something like all those Ikea books. They might just be blank pages. “You wanna sit down?”

She looks over her shoulder, smiles at him. She’s pretty. She’s _gorgeous_. “You think I’m easy, Caswell?”

“No,” he says, drumming his fingers of his outstretched arm on the leather. “But I am.”

She leaves the bookshelf and walks towards him. “You’re kind of funny, you know. In a weird sort of way,” she says, putting a knee on the couch and settling into his lap. EJ’s hands come up to rest on her waist. She’s wearing this plaid skirt, pink and white, and it pulls back as she sits, exposing the tanned skin of her thighs. She’s perfect.

“Hmm,” he says, stroking the seam of the skirt, dipping a thumb below to touch her skin. “I don’t get ‘funny’ a lot. Handsome, sure. Hot is pretty typical. Sometimes heart-throb if I break out a smile at the country club.”

She tilts her head, studies him with these piercing green eyes. They’re memorable, special, eyes of someone that you can’t forget. EJ finds them unnerving. “Cocky? Arrogant? Self-obsessed?”

“Sometimes. ‘Best lay I’ve ever had’ is common too.”

“Sure,” she drawls, moving her hips, grinding down slowly on his thighs. “You ever make a girl cum, EJ Caswell?”

“Hope so,” he replies, moving his hand to work the buttons on her shirt open. “But girls are good at faking it. Boys are easier. Can’t hide it, right?”

“You ever kiss boys before, EJ?” she asks. He’s got one hand on the clip of her bra, the other on the soft skin of her back.

“Sometimes,” he says, breath uneven. “You into that?”

“Sometimes,” she responds. “You ever make a boy cum?”

EJ lets her take his shirt off, watches as she explores the toned skin of his chest. “Sure.” He doesn’t want to talk anymore, especially not about this. EJ’s not good at talking. He’s good at eating girls out, though. He hopes Camilla will be okay with that instead.

Camilla starts kissing his neck, teeth dragging over the skin behind his ear. He puts his hands on her thighs, pushes her skirt up, thumbs along the expanse of her inner thigh. She’s smooth, warm, everything he liked. Everything he _likes_ , he reminds himself. She’s perfect.

She’s perfect, and her lips are on his pulse point, one hand in his hair, pushing his head back. She’s moving her hips, circular, grinding down on his dick through his jeans. This is taking longer than he thought it would.

Her perfume is strong, floral and sweet. It’s kind of suffocating, filling up all his senses. It was nice, back in the car, but right up next to him, right under his hands, it makes him feel sick.

“You okay?” she asks, looking down at him. He’s stopped moving. He can’t really breathe, either, paralyzed by the feeling of her on top of him. EJ feels trapped, caged in, cornered like a fucking animal.

“I uh—” he starts, blinking. “I’m fine. You’re great.”

She smiles and brings both hands to cradle his face. She moves in, her face inches from his, and runs her tongue over her top lip.

“I don’t kiss,” he says, chest tight. He doesn’t kiss because the last time he did that was with Ricky, and that didn’t end up so well. He doesn’t want to think about Ricky, about brown hair, long fingers, hands made for playing guitar, made for touching EJ’s skin.

“That’s okay,” she says. “We don’t need to kiss for what I want to do.” She slides off his lap, kneels on the floor, gets between his knees, and starts to unbutton his pants. She has the zipper halfway down when he stands up.

“You need to leave,” he says, voice shaking.

She looks up and him and laughs. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Get out,” EJ repeats. He doesn’t meet her gaze. “Please.”

She stands up, straightens her skirt, pulls her shirt back over her shoulders. “Fine, but you’re calling me an Uber.”

“Yeah, whatever, just—just go outside,” he says, running a hand through his hair. He’s never sent a girl home before they were done. He’s never turned anyone away. This isn’t _like him_ , okay?

Camilla leaves, eventually. EJ paces around for a while before sliding the back door open. It’s still warm out, as he strips off his shoes and places his feet into the water of the pool. His parents aren’t home.

EJ leans back, presses his hands into the concrete until it bites into his palms. He tips his head back and looks up at the stars. Ricky liked the stars, would always talk about the constellations. EJ misses him.

_Fuck._


End file.
